U Is for Undertow

is my cousin Tasha. I believe the two of you met before.”
    “A cousin. And here, I’m thinking you was an orphing.”
    “Not quite. My parents died, but my mother had four sisters so I still have aunts and cousins in Lompoc.”
    “And a grandmother,” Tasha put in.
    “You hev a grandma?” Rosie said, feigning surprise. “Why you don’t hev her down for visiting?”
    “That’s what I’ve been asking her,” Tasha said, not wanting to pass up the chance to get under my skin. I refused to react. If I offered resistance the two of them would gang up and turn on me like chow dogs.
    Rosie turned to Tasha. “I’m bringing you good wine. Not like your cousin drinks.”
    “Great. I’d appreciate that. The cuisine’s Hungarian?”
    Rosie nearly purred when she heard the word “cuisine,” which she took as a compliment. “You know Hungarian dish what is carp in sour cream? Is special tonight. You be my guest.” She turned to me. “I’m giving you some as well in honor of your friend. You lucky to have someone so close. My own sister Klotilde is died.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Tasha said.
    “No big loss. She wus crabby to the end. I’m getting wine now. You sit and I’m bringing right beck.”
    “Looks like you’ve made a conquest,” I remarked, as Rosie moved away. I took a seat again on my side of the booth and Tasha slid in across the table from me.
    “She’s adorable,” she said.
    “That’s one word for it.”
    “She speaks English well. How long has she been in this country?”
    “Sixty years, give or take.”
    We confined ourselves to chitchat until Rosie returned with the wine in a dusty bottle with an actual cork. For me, she’s quick with a screw-top jug and wine so close to vinegar you could use it to clean windows. The wine she poured for Tasha was like drinking elixir from an orchard—soft, subtle, with a fragrance of apples, pears, and honey.
    We let Rosie order for us, which she’d have done anyway. It was better to give her permission to be bossy and thus retain a modicum of control. She was otherwise a food dominatrix. The carp with sour cream turned out to be lovely. Maybe I’d have dinner here with Tasha more often.
    As is the case every time we meet, I couldn’t help making a secret study of her. She looks not the way I look, but the way I think I look when I’m at my best. We have the same square teeth, the same nose, though mine has suffered a few indignities where hers has survived in its original state. My eyes are hazel where hers are dark brown, but the shape is the same. I could tell she plucked her eyebrows, and I envied her both the skill and the courage. Sometimes I try, usually closing my eyes while doing so in hopes it won’t hurt. Inevitably, I pull out the wrong hair, which makes my brows look patchy and incomplete. Then I have to use eyebrow pencil to fill in the blanks, which gives me the fierce demeanor of a Kabuki.
    When we’d finished our meal and Rosie had removed the plates, Tasha reached into her tote and pulled out a bulky manila envelope. I expected her to hand it across the table to me, but she held it against her chest.
    “I’ve been sorting and cataloging Grandfather Kinsey’s papers for the historical preservation group that raised the money to move the house. Grand asked me to take charge because his files are so voluminous and so disorganized. She’s never had the patience to tackle them herself. She wants me to put together a chronological account of the house—when it was built, the architect, the plans, and that sort of thing. Grandfather Kinsey kept everything —and I mean everything —so with a bit of digging I’ve been able to come up with summaries of his meetings with the builder, various construction proposals, invoices and receipts documenting the project from beginning to end. In the midst of it, I came across some letters that by rights belong to Grand. I haven’t told her I found them, because there’s no way to predict what she’d do with them. Destroy them, most likely. I thought you should see them first.”
    “Well, you’ve got my attention.”
    “I hope so,” she said.
    I held out my hand and took the envelope. While she watched, I unfolded the clasp, opened the package, and peered in. There were three or four sheets of letterhead stationery and a series of letters bound together with two thick rubber bands, old ones apparently, because both snapped when I tried removing them. I did a finger